I was reading the Sports section of the newspaper the other day -- okay, not really reading it, but noticed a headline about a high school football game -- and it reminded me of when my son was in high school.
He didn't play football.
But he did play percussion in the marching band, specifically the snare - and his schedule was every bit as grueling as any player's on that football team.
I was a band parent - and every bit as loyal to my drummer as the mother who runs onto the field when her son the quarterback isn't properly guarded by the center.
Don't even try to come between a mother and her son. Right?
My husband and I didn't miss a single game or other performance of our Marching Jaguars. That Friday night ritual was a habit we enjoyed for four-years, and in the course of those years, we naturally became friends with many other band parent geeks.
At the first game at the start of my son's senior year, I turned to one of the other senior band member mothers (who was as emotional as I) and looked into her eyes - both of us crying - and said, "This is the last first game of the season we'll ever have."
We both laughed, knowing how silly that sounded, but also knowing how true it was.
It seems I've been faced with similar dilemmas ever since.
When my son went to college, I thought, "There won't be anymore first days of school. I won't be there for any of his firsts in college - his first all-nighter, his first hangover, his first induction into a fraternity."
When my father passed away, I experienced my first time not having someone to answer my every question. Growing up, and well into adulthood, my father answered all of my questions. No matter what it was, he always had an answer for everything. I never heard him say, "I don't know."
This past year, I have faced a multitude of firsts: the first time my birthday went by without even a phone call to or from my mother; my first holidays as an orphan; my first medical situation without her to talk to for strength; my first, my first, my first.
Of course, I'm not alone. Everyone who has experienced the loss of a loved one so dear has had to also experience all of the firsts that come with that first year.
But the good news is, they were all the last first times!
The unknown of all those firsts is now known.
My friend who took me to lunch on the beach only weeks after Mother passed away, saw a person in need, hugged her with conversation, undivided time and sympathy - and she spoke the truth. She promised that I'd get through it, and although I didn't believe her at the time, I did make it through to the other side --- the last of all those firsts is now over. It feels like the time passed in the blink of an eye, yet it also feels like an eternity.
But the bottom line is that I did make it, and I never lost sight of how blessed I am, not even for a moment.
